


Final Call

by StormFireGirl



Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Cybertron, F/M, Fluff, Good vs Evil, Rape Recovery, Torture, War, Warzone, war tactics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormFireGirl/pseuds/StormFireGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stormfire is the Autobot's programmer and hacker, entrusted with sensitive intelligence. As it so happens, she was also captured by Skyblade, the Decepticon's chief interrogator who uses sadistic methods to obtain information from his victims. Now somehow miraculously saved before being killed, she continues her work... but not unscathed. However, what happens when one of the Autobot's best spies finally discover the dark secret behind her torture? And what happens when Skyblade returns for revenge?</p><p>Could a rag-tag team of Autobots on earth be their last hope...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The War

_"Please, no!" She begged, optics widening from behind her visor. "I-I do not know what you want! I don't know!!! You have to believe me, please! Do not do this!"_

 

_In the darkness, she could see his terrible smirk, and the shine of the dagger in his servo. "PLEASE! DO NOT DO THIS!"_

 

_He didn't listen._

 

_"NO, SOMEONE!"_

 

_It drew along her spark chamber..._

 

_"SOMEONE PLEASE!"_

 

_He punctured the casing, and beams of light poured through._

 

_"ANYONE!"_

 

_His claw-like digits reached to rip off the remaining pieces of glass and metal in his way....!_

 

_"HELP ME!!!"_

 

 

Buzzing woke her up first and foremost. She sat up with a loud gasp, flailing to fight off an invisible assailant. Then she realized two things; one, she was unharmed. Two, someone was calling her. 

 

-Yes?- She quickly spoke over her comlink.

 

-Up 'an at 'em Storm!- A familiar, laid-back voice echoed. -You're being debriefed in an joor!-

 

-Oh Ancestorial Sparks!- The femme stood up abruptly, and wobbled slightly on her peds. She reached out and grabbed onto the edge of her berth, steadying herself as she clipped back on her visor. -Yes, yes I am coming! I will arrive shortly!-

 

The femme unlocked her room's door and it slid open with a beep, and she sped out into the small crowd of Autobots, darting in between them in a hurry. The femme had a slender, lithe frame, capable for agility and precision when navigating though not best known for it's durability or strength. But Stormfire's intelligence when it came to programs and deciphering programming codes, was just as precise as her steps.

 

She arrived at Jazz's office, and saluted, cycling her vents quickly. "A joyous solar cycle, sir!" The femme saluted her superior officer.

 

The mech took one look at her and laughed. "Ah said ya hadda joor. It's fine if you're a little late, how many times have Ah told ya that now?"

 

"My apologies." She gave him a short, customary bow.

 

As usual, the mech waved her off. "None 'a that now, it's fine! Go 'an get yer reports ready, Prowl will be collecting them shortly."

 

Stormfire nodded and departed for her small cubicle. The night before she had placed out several datapads, each one consisting of a different form of code she'd deciphered from recovered data files on Decepticon intelligence computers. A mech called 'Quiaux' had retrieved them from a small outpost near the city of Hexidecimal, something of a two-way point for the forces of the armada between Kaon and Tarn. All had been a tad boggling, but she'd cracked it shortly before the moons reached their highest peak. She checked over her notes and nodded, making sure her theories were correct and they all corresponded with one another and she did not leave out any unknown detail. Stormfire looked up over at Jazz, who was reading over his own datapad, obviously relaxing again. The mech's more easy approach at life soothed her nervous and timid-self most of the time, but at times it also infuriated her how uninterested he seemed with his surroundings.

 

They  _were_ in a war after all. _  
_

 

Stormfire, checking her internal chronometer saw that her joor was slowly drawing to an end. She stacked them neatly and marched out, heading swiftly towards Prowl's office to deliver her reports and recieve her next assignment. Ever since her... incident, she'd thrown herself into her work, barely pausing to ingest Energon. Perhaps that was why some of the superior officers and generals called her 'Femme Prowl'. But none truly knew of what she'd been subjucated to, the humiliations and-

 

 _'No, no more of that. You will have an online sparkfear and glitch. Don't let that happen out here!'_   Stormfire scolded herself inwardly, and knocked on the door to the office.

 

"It's open."

 

She entered without a single hesitation. "My reports on the Hexidecimal Data Programs, sir." 

 

Prowl, in stark contrast to Jazz was very uptight and lived seemingly for order and worked as hard as she did. That was why he was SIC after all. "Excellent. Your next assignment is-" He paused as he lifted a datapad. "Stormfire."

 

"Yes sir?"

 

"You have no other assignments this orn."

 

"... I am sorry?" Her basic Cybertronian was still forming together so mistakes in translation could be made. 

 

"Ratchet wishes to see you instead. Something about 'overworking yourself to the brink of collapsion'?"

 

Oh. "I ah, I see." Stormfire gave him a curt nod. "V-very well then, I shall go." With a short bow she departed, heading for the Medbay.

 

If there was one thing she disliked, it was medical examinations. Now more than ever, she severely tried to avoid them. But, reluctantly, off she went. Ratchet, as usual was wrapped up in polishing his prized wrench as she stepped in timidly. "Ratchet, sir?" Stormfire called out.

 

He turned around. "There you are. C'mon now, on the berth and I'll be with you shortly." 

 

She did as asked, seating herself onto the medical berth and waited patiently for the medic to gather a few tools and place them on a tray as he walked up to her. "Now this is a routine scan of your systems. I'll also be conducting a short analysis on your recovery."

 

"Very well." She nodded. 

 

Ratchet got right down to business, examining her frame using the specialized medical scanner, and took note of her energy readings and functionality. Then, she was asked to lay back and allow him to examine her... hardwear. Ashamed, she looked away and parted her thighs for him to examine. The scars were slight and unnoticable, if you weren't looking for them. But the medic knew where they were and carefully examined the fixing done upon them. "I'm done."

 

Relieved, she shut her panel and kept her optics averted though. "Have you gone to see Rung yet?" Ratchet asked.

 

"I have."

 

"What progress have you made so far?" No response. "Stormfire?"

 

"I still... have the sparkfears." She admitted ever-so-quietly. 

 

Ratchet sighed quietly. "I can always prescribe a-"

 

"Nothing works!" The femme exclaimed, finally looking at him. "Nothing. I have tried everything, they keep returning and disturbing me. He... he was right."

 

"Stormfire-"

 

"He was! I am too broken to be fixed." 

 

"No, he was incredibly incorrect. You will come out of this, we will not give up on you yet. Are you positive you have tried all of the other options given to you?"

 

"Yes. Therapy... The medicinal Energon, meditation... nothing has been helping me."

 

"There is one last option, though I highly suggest against it." Ratchet sighed, looking at a datapad.

 

"Processor purging?" The femme asked, thinking back to her own tribe's methods.

 

"Primus no!" He gave her a look and she immediately regretted mentioning it. "No... Nothing that barberic. A sparkmate."

 

"You must be doing the joking." Stormfire was shocked.

 

"No, however your spark-match hasn't appeared yet, has it?"

 

"No sir."

 

"Then that's all I can do for you. I am sorry, Stormfire."

 

"Do not be. You have tried all that you can." She slid off of the berth and bowed to him slightly.

 

"Now then, you're scheduled for a solar cycle off duty. You may use it however you wish, but for your systems sake _rest_ Stormfire!"

 

"Yes sir."  

 

"I've also directed some extra rations to you. Your intake is a little lower than it should be."

 

Stormfire was backing towards the medic's door and bowed her helm. "I will do so-" 

 

*CRASH!*

 

She bumped right into a mecha behind her! "Oh!" The femme struggled back up and deeply bowed. "Forgive me, I am so-.... sorry."

 

The mech below her was unlike she'd ever seen. He had a tapered, narrow build like that of her own kind though was a little bit thicker still. He was a dark black with slight orange highlights, and the most beautiful set of blue optics she'd ever seen. 

 

"O-oh Primus I'm sorry!" The mech stood up and brushed himself off.

 

"Quiaux, just in time." The grouchy medic gave him a stern look. "I was about to come looking for you with my wrench."

 

"W-well I'm here now! No worries." He quickly checked Stormfire over. "I'm so sorry, are you all right?!"

 

"Yes... yes, I am all right. No damage has been done."

 

"Good. I wouldn't want someone else hurt." His words struck her as odd, but she chose against mentioning it.

 

"Come along mech." 

 

"Coming, coming!" Quiaux looked at Stormfire one last time. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes, I am." She couldn't help but smile. "Thank you for your concern."

 

A light blush coated his faceplate and he quickly hurried into the medbay, while she hurried away. 'Quiaux', she knew that name from her reports. He was an Autobot spy, intelligence collector. 

 

He was someone that struck her as, not off putting but... different.

 

Perhaps, she would see him around in the future...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I don't own Transformers, just my OC Stormfire and her clan. Quiaux is my best friend's OC!
> 
> And the song I based the story's idea on is this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j411kQANAFI 
> 
>  
> 
> Later in the story it'll make sense. But it is what Stormfire sounds like a bit)


	2. 1: Siren Call

That, had been several vorns ago.

 

Stormfire, now in her mid 200s was busy as ever. The War for Cybertron had long-since ended, and with it came new life and new oppertunities for all. A chance at rebirth, renewel... 

 

Despite that, there was tragedy. Many of her comrades, superior officers and fellow Autobots had long-since passed on to the Well or were currently MIA, and her own tribe of the Pariah was now extinct all except for her. To the Autobot Council's optics that made her valuable as they were trying to restore what groups or clans were lost during the War with newer policies 'just in case'. She didn't want her tribe back... they had been corrupted long before the Decepticons rose to power. And when the War began they had joined on their side, much to her dismay. But their alliance wasn't to last, and instead they merely used it as a temporary outpost and when it's defenses in the Badlands failed, they simply allowed it to be torched and bombed and left.

 

As luck would have it, she and a few of her family had managed to escape the carnage that unfolded, but many had been badly wounded or damaged from their loss and barely survived upon reaching help at the Autobot base. Sadly, all but her perished there soon after. Stormfire used her intelligence and ability to understand datacode to interpret messages and plans made by Decepticon encryptors and sent back and forth between generals and their higher-ups. She'd even once decoded a set of plans made by Starscream himself to bomb the city of Numeris. It had been thwarted just in time, but however... not at the cost of so many lives. 

  
The planet had grown dark despite everything they had done during the war. 

 

But once more, was there life, and the shadows of the dark apocalypse were beginning to fade, slowly yet surely. Decepticons were being brought to justice for previous crimes, many becoming outcasts on a desolate astroid deep in space. However at the moment, the council was unsettled that one of their main prison ships had crashed on another planet that previously housed the finale of the Great War, and the captive 'Cons were now free and roaming around. Perhaps that would be their prison for an eternity, but from what Stormfire had heard it housed organic somewhat sentient but all the same sentient life forms that matched some of the criminals base modes. They could blend in easily, and attack and dominate that planet.

 

From what she'd learnt in corresponding files and the like, an old comrade of hers was heading a small rag-tag team to try and round them up. Her former superior officer, Jazz brought back greetings from the planet while a bounty hunter that worked for the council -Drift- had chosen to remain there with the team. From what Jazz had told her, the former scout Bumblebee was fulfilling his role as leader well though not without it's hiccups. She couldn't stop a slight smile as she thought back to the buggy blue-optics of the yellow scout who had lost his vocalizer to Megatron. She had been the one that Ratchet had gone to and requested that she help him develop the datacode language that was easy for others to understand. It was rough and patchy and above all difficult but somehow it'd worked. Bumblebee had been a good friend ever since she'd worked with him.

 

And now here she was, instead of a datacode interpreter for the Autobots, she'd taken a position as secretary. It wasn't the same as her previous line of work but it paid well and was subcutaneously easier. As the femme sat down on her desk, she began to fill out an agenda for the Head of the Council, making sure everything was according to his precise time slots and when he could see certain mecha and when he couldn't. She worked next on filling out some forms until a blip to her comlink sounded.

 

-Cybertron High Council, how may I help you this solar cycle?- Stormfire responded with her slight accent. It wasn't as prominant as when she was learning basic Cybertronian.

 

-And how is my femme doing?-

 

Stormfire felt herself blush. -Quiaux, this is a main line! I must keep it open!-

 

-Well, I just wanted to check up on you and see if we're still on for this night cycle.-

 

-Of course, I do not back out of plans unless I have an absolutely good reason to.- 

 

-My place, remember?-

 

-Yes, yes. I bring the holo-vid, you make me goodies.-

 

-Don't you mean 'us' goodies?- Quiaux's teasing tone made her giggle.

 

-Indeed. I will see you then once I am done work here.-

 

-Okay. I love you Stormy.-

 

Stormfire was about to reply, but felt her spark flux slightly. She hesitated, then shook off her fear. -I know. I love you too, my future mate.- 

 

-You always make it sound so formal.-

 

-Oh hush up and get off of this line! I need it open!- 

 

-All right, all right! Heh, bye.- He clicked off and she sighed, returning to her work when the comlink line pinged again. She answered it as always though was certain it was Quiaux still. 

 

-Cybertron High Council, how may I help you this solar cycle?- There was nothing but heavy venting. -... Hello? Who is this?- Inexplicably they hung up and Stormfire sighed. It was probably a prank call or a wrong com dial. They happened at times. 

 

As she began to type again, she thought back to the first time she'd met Quiaux during the War. They were both young then, barely out of their youngling frames, when they'd crashed that solar cycle in Ratchet's office. Afterwards, she began to indeed see him around more often. At first she was heavily reluctant to get involved with him for... reasons. But he persisted, patiently and seemed advocate to somehow win her over. And that, he did. When Cybertron went dark they had to flee together with a few superior officers, soldiers and scouts aboard  _The Wanderer_. It actually fit them as they drifted from galaxy to galaxy looking for colonies of Autobots that had fled much earlier in the War to replenish supplies and overall just find themselves somewhere to stay. Eventually they had landed on a distant planet, Helixia and remained there until word reached them that Cybertron had been reborn. 

 

In that timeframe, Quiaux and Stormfire had shared their first kiss together, an innocent yet loving one, where she was afraid and he soothed her fear. She never told him about what transpired during the War to her, but he could just sense how terrible it was. He never asked, instead promising her,

 

_"I'm here for you Stormy. I'll fix you, because you fixed me."_

 

She'd wondered what he'd meant by 'fixed me' until the journey home. When she'd asked, he revealed to her that during the last stages of the Golden Age he'd been living off of the streets and had been tricked into becoming a pleasure drone. It'd left him afraid and emotionally dead inside, so much so that when the war began he'd decided to become a spy because one, he was a shifter and two he didn't care what happened to him. Then, he met her. A kindered spark practically, who was just as afraid and damaged as he was so it seemed. He was right... she had never revealed much to Quiaux, aside from implicating she'd been a Decepticon prisoner at a point and it had both frightened and scarred her. Femmes were never treated right in war and she had never been strong of stature to begin with. Despite it all, he stayed with her, never judging nor asking anything from her, other than to hold him when his sparkfears attacked. She reciprocated, and he did as well.

 

Stormfire smiled. Quiaux was now running a dance club and lived in an apartment above it, small and cozy. It was the one night cycle a week he didn't run it, and opened up an ample oppertunity for a date. Courting was a slow and methodical procedure in her former culture, but they made it more bearable by small kisses, cuddling, surprising each other sometimes at their jobs and all in all being good friends to their significant other. 

 

"Hey, Stormfire!" Another secretary showed up. Copy was created the same time life returned to Cybertron and although was in his adult frame, technically he was much younger than her since she had been born during the Golden Age. "Somebot just left this for you."

 

"Oh?" Had Quiaux stopped by?

 

"Yeah, here." He handed her a beautiful crystal rose. 

 

"Ahhh!" She marvelled. Quiaux had wonderful taste. 

 

"Is he your mech-friend?" He wriggled his optic ridges at her and behind her visor Stormfire rolled her optics.

 

"He is indeed. Are you perhaps jealous?"

 

"Me? Pfft, nah. Sure he's got a nice-look'n aft but really isn't my type. I'm not much for fliers."

 

"Yes well, he is perfect to me-" Stormfire stopped short. "I beg your pardon, but did you say he was a flier?"

 

"Seeker." Copy emphasized with a grin. "A bit of a stockier build but Primus, he was hot." 

 

"I-I see." Something didn't sit right with her. "I think you may have made a mistake. My bonded-to-be is not a Seeker."

 

"He isn't?"

 

"No. He is a Shifter to be precise." Maybe Quiaux had taken on a different form? It just did not sound right to her.

 

"Well how many 'Stormfires' are there that work here?" Copy asked, almost insulted. 

 

"It is only me. Did he deliver it directly?"

 

"Yeah, didn't want to reveal his name. Said he was just dropping in and didn't have time to see you." 

 

Ah. Perhaps it was Quiaux then. He sometimes did take other forms as to not be recognized or harrassed by other Decepticons. Some prisoners were standing trial that solar cycle, she recalled. His previous work as a spy was not a safe one, not even now.

 

"My apologies. I was unsure."

 

"Don't condense it." Copy waved her off with a grin. "Though you are a lucky femme."

 

"Indeed... I am." Stormfire smiled and brushed her digits along the crystal rose.

 

\---

 

Her shift ended a touch earlier than she figured, so Stormfire decided to go back to her single housing unit and take a brief wash and polish before heading off to see Quiaux. Her apartment unit was smaller than his, only two rooms. Three rather if you counted the tiny washrack off to the side of the berthroom. She pulled out some polish and a cleaning cloth and set them aside before removing her helm wrappings (a religious tradition she kept despite her tribe no longer existing) and then her armour piece-by-piece. As she did, in front of a oblong mirror, the femme froze and stared at her lithe frame. It was no longer as weak as it had been before the war, gaining a touch more protoform but she was still unusually lean and tapered, from helm to ped. And, slowly she reached down and touched where a piece of thinner armour had covered her middle, exposing a long and dark scar. There were others, but this was the one that remained the most noticable, which was why she'd gotten fitted for it shortly after recovering. The former CMO of the Decepticons (pardoned after joining and assisting the Autobots) recently upgraded it so it blended in better to her colour scheme, and though it'd been quite the hefty credit he'd actually cut the cost.

 

"For a pretty femme." He'd winked. His red optics still unsettled her.

 

Clenching her servo into a fist, she let out a long exvent and stepped into her washrack, the panel closing and she began the cycle. Ionic liquid poured over her frame, cleaning what little dirt there was and soothing her spark. It had been a long solar cycle for her, even if everything was peaceful. With another long sigh, this one almost a moan she rubbed herself down as solvents began to slide over her instead of the ion. 

 

As she did, deep down something didn't settle right with her. Her rotary blades quivered slightly, always as sensitive as a Praxian's doorwings- well, hers were even more-so come to think of it. She could somewhat detect changes in the atmosphere around her, and this was so distracting at times that often she kept them covered with her helm wrappings, making sure that the mesh was draped over them to dull the sensors. Now though, Stormfire had them uncovered and something just felt off. For the moment she ignored it, but in the back of her processor, old protocols emerged and warned her of another presence close by. The War never truly left her frame, keeping her paranoid when she was left alone.

 

Out of the corner of her optic she caught a faint dark silhoutte through the frosted glass panels around the wash rack. "Quiaux?" She called out her mech's designation, thinking it was him. But it didn't respond, and she came to the horrific realization that it was watching her through the glass! "oh ancestorial sparks." Stormfire murmured under her breath, and kept her optic on him until finally the figure got up and left. Had it really been Quiaux? Was she just being paranoid? Finally deeming it safe, she slowly stepped out and moved towards the figure had been. Nothing indicated anyone had been there... perhaps she had been hallucinating of all things? Too many questions all at once made her let out a heaving sigh through her vents, and she began to reclip her armor, when-

 

Her spark skipped a pulse when something caught the corner of her optic, an object gleaming as the street lights on Cybertron turned on and shone through the slats of the blind covering her window. Clipping on her middle panel, she slowly approached it and picked it up to see what it was. Her vents seized as she held it into the light, and discovered it was none other than a dagger. A specific type of dagger, one she knew all too well. Instantly, she screamed and dropped it, recoiling as if it would come alive and stab her! In a way it did, through fuzzy and distorted flashbacks.

 

Stormfire's back hit the wall and she slid down, trembling profusely and stared over at the weapon for what seemed like an eternity, paralyzed by her fear. Finally, she found the strength to stand and reclip her visor, and stumbled out of her apartment. She needed to get to Quiaux... he was back. He was back and he wanted her to know he was. The call, the rose, the mysterious visitor, it all added up. He was back on Cybertron, free and hunting her.

 

He was going to kill her.

 

\---

 

All in all, Quiaux knew his femme to be very shy and flustered at the slightest compliment, but all the same intelligent and a stronghold for him. He hummed to himself as he pulled out the last batch of goodies he'd made for them, the holo-vid picked out. He hoped she wouldn't mind a romantic-action-comedy, since 'Rise of the Terrorcons' had been a complete bust. He couldn't get her to calm down for a solid joor after watching it! That was another thing about Stormfire... she got scared and fast over things such as spilt energon. Even if they had survived a war together, he knew she had gone under something terrible at the servos of some Decepticon. Personally he wanted to rip the mech in half for just laying a digit on her, but he was gone now; gone with the war, and she'd never revealed his designation.

 

So when Stormfire came barging in, screeching and sobbing, he knew something bad had just happened. Even if Terrorcons initially hadn't scared her in that holo-vid, he knew that the gore was a main fear. She wasn't just overreacting. "Storm! Stormy! Hey, hey! It's okay!" The black-and-grey mech hurried over and gently wrapped his arms around her. "Hey, shhh... you're okay."

 

"N-no! I am not!" The femme wailed, almost vibrating in his servos. Her words made him panic as well, not as much as her though.

 

"What happened?! Did someone touch you or try to stab you?!"

 

"N-no... he- he did not do anything yet!" 

 

"'He'?" Quiaux tried to specify, but she didn't say anything else. "Stormy, who's 'he'?" Nothing. "Storm, please, you gotta tell me."

 

"I cannot..." She whispered at last. "He- he is back though, he is back and he will kill me this time!"

 

"Who, Stormy. Who will?" His voice was firm. This wasn't something to take lightly... no mech as far as he knew wanted her dead. 

 

"A-a Decepticon... very bad, very cunning, he is- he is following me, taunting me-!" She broke off into a hiccupy sob, engines restarting once or twice.

 

Quiaux was becoming just as distressed, his processor running through the different designations of mechs either of them knew. But none of them could have returned. Lightpoint was gone, Starscream was dead, the others were still imprisoned as far as his friend at Iacon Prison told him... so who could she be so terrified of? Then it dawned on him. "Was it- is it the mech that interrogated you during the war?"

 

Stormfire could only nod. Quiaux's spark sank. He didn't know his designation of course but, knew from what little was revealed to him that this mech was ruthless, and if he was back and unaccounted for and stalking his mate-to-be... this wasn't good. "We need to go to the authorities-!"

 

"Not safe! Not safe... he will kill any that stands in his way, o-or get help. I know of his ways." She cried out.

 

"Then what're we supposed to do?!"

 

"Leave." 

 

Her answer stunned and confused him. "Leave...? As in, Iacon or-?"

 

"Leave Cybertron. We must flee. He will kill us both." Her voice was dead serious between gulping vents. 

 

Now, Quiaux considered himself to be a rational mech, knowing when something was a smart idea and when something wasn't. This wasn't, it felt like. However... he knew Stormfire never exaggerated things, let alone got carried away, so the fact that she was suggesting this made him reconsider all of his logical circuits.  "Where could we go though? There's no more outposts, they're all coming back."

 

"Earth. There is still an outpost on earth."

 

"As in the planet the last bit of the War was fought on?" 

 

Stormfire nodded. "I have... access to a spacebridge at the Main Hall of Records."

 

"Stormy if we do that we'd get into major trouble!"

 

"We WILL be in major trouble if we do not leave! And soon." The femme persisted. "Please, Quiaux! Please, w-we must... we must go before it is too late!"

 

"A-all right Stormy. You know I'd do anything to make sure you're safe... if, you really believe we're in as much danger as never before then, let's go. I'll pack energon and some other necessities and we'll head over to the Main Hall."

 

Quiaux hoped this was the right thing to do.

 

\---

 

A swipe of her datacard later, and the two entered the Main Hall, avoiding security personnel and the like as they snuck along. "It is over this way." She whispered to her mate-to-be, ushering him along. Soon, they came across a locked room and Stormfire went to work, hacking into and making sure the door slid open. She overrode the security alarms as an added measure and then nodded at Quiaux as the doors slid open.

 

He hurried in and turned on his headlights, illuminating the dark room, the spacebridge and the panel to activate it. "Remember how to hack into one of these sweetspark?"

 

"I have it." She nodded and quickly began to type away, pulling up the planet's coordinates when-

 

"HOLD IT!" Just as she activated it, two security mechs appeared and aimed blasters at them! Before Stormfire could react, Quiaux began to change his form, making himself look like-

 

"Megatron?!" One of them gasped, optics widening in horror. 

 

"Go Stormy! I'm right behind you!" He ordered in an un-Megatron-like voice.

 

She dove through without a second thought, and a moment later so did Quiaux, the bridge closing behind them. "A-are you all right?" Stormfire asked him.

 

"Y-yeah..." He shifted back into his true form. "Nothing needing repairs. You okay?"

 

"Indeed I am- oh." Her optics from behind her visor widened in amazement as she gazed around at the organic flora that surrounded them. "Oh... look at this. It's more beautiful than I ever imagined it to be!"

 

"Heh, sure is." Quiaux agreed, standing up and staring up at one of the organic pole-like plantation. "What are these things?"

 

"I... I think they are called 'trees'." Stormfire murmured, examining one of her own. As she did though, her optics landed on something moving in the brush and she gasped and shrieked-!


End file.
